


Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

by Strangertd



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trans, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Sex, Slight Transphobia, Trans Blaine, semi canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-08-14 17:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strangertd/pseuds/Strangertd
Summary: Follows canon from season 2 until season 3.Almost everything is the same, except for one thing. Blaine was born a female.Basically, this is me- a trans man- writing out my own feelings/emotions/thoughts through Blaine. I promise it'll be cute as hell, though!Title from Queen's song Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy... duh





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin- as I mentioned, I'm a trans male. I did LOTS of research on this as to what is needed in medical terms along with age requirements and such, and I clearly already know the emotions of a trans male. Some things ARE exaggerated a slight bit, but that is for storytelling use and won't be noticeable much. I'll add the link to one of the sites I used to gather age info and such!

[Website!](https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/article/when-transgender-kids-transition-medical-risks-are-both-known-and-unknown/%20)

* * *

I still can’t quite believe that this is actually happening. A lifetime of waiting has led me to this moment. I’m sitting in the cold, stale green waiting room, but I couldn’t be happier, because today I’m actually,  _ officially _ getting my breast removal surgery. 

You see, 16 years ago, I was born, but I was originally named Brianne Lynn Anderson. My mother always described me as a down and dirty baby- I ate mud on more than one occasion- and I really liked keeping to myself. I played with any and every toy available to me, and I especially loved stealing my mom’s hair bows and clipping them onto my shirts. I loved the soft, fabric feeling of them, and I liked that I looked like my dad did when he went to work!

The older I became, the more rowdy I got. I refused to play with the girls at recess, and I hated when the teachers insisted on separating the class by sex. I never really knew why, back then. I just knew that it hurt me to always be grouped with the girls. All my best friends were boys, and I didn’t want to be with the stinky girls. For a first grader, it was confusing. My mom always told me stories of 6 year old me  _ insisting _ that I be paired with the boys over the girls, but the grownups just laughed it off as childish antics. 

When I was ten, I was browsing online for ghost pictures and whatever else it is that weird fifth graders search for, when I stumbled across the word “transgender” in a webkinz chat. Being 10 and curious, I searched the definition, and that was the first time that I had ever truly felt any sense of belonging. I ran to my mother and showed her the page, excitedly telling her that  _ that _ is what I am! That I’ve never been her daughter, but her  _ son _ all along. It took months of insistence and referring to myself as a boy for her to finally understand that I wasn’t kidding.

After many debates with my father, they agreed to get me a gender therapist to discuss my feelings, and consider any steps we could take. One full year of gender therapy and confirmation that,  _ no, I’m not kidding _ , and my therapist referred me to a doctor who specializes in gender identity and transition, and we quickly got me set on hormone blockers.

It took a few more years of therapy while I was taking the hormone blockers- to track my thoughts and feelings and explore my gender identity- until  _ finally _ by age 14 I was deemed emotionally and mentally prepared for hormone therapy. Learning how to give myself the shots of testosterone was… difficult, and it definitely hurt sometimes, but the differences in myself that I felt throughout the following year were amazing. My prepubescent voice deepened, I got a lot hairier, my emotions were all over the place, and I finally started to feel more comfortable in my body.

The kids in Westerville high didn’t really take the news so well. Sure, in 5th grade when I requested that I be called Blaine, everyone still called me a girl, no matter how many times I told them I wasn’t. They just passed my insistence on being a boy off as being a weirdo. Because of that, I didn’t really talk to anyone in middle school, and no one wanted to talk to me either. I spent my lunch hours with Principal Victoria, and she was my only friend throughout those three whole years. 

In high school, I had to start from scratch. Despite my name and gender being legally changed on important documents- such as my passport and driver's permit- I was  _ still  _ being called Brianne by  _ everyone, _ including some teachers. Apparently, one day some kids had had enough. They cornered me in the yard as I was waiting for my mom to pick me up (she was always late on Tuesdays because of her job), and beat the living hell out of me. When my mom saw me sitting on the curb bloody and crying, she made the executive decision to pull me out of that school. 

I spent the second half of my freshman year at Dalton Academy. My father was concerned that the school wouldn’t accept me since I was born female, but the way the dean saw it, I was a boy no matter what parts I had. 

Now, just 6 weeks before my sophomore year of high school at Dalton, I’m finally getting the breast tissue in my chest removed. Thanks to the hormone blockers and hormone therapy, the tissue never really grew in much, but getting it fully removed is still a big step. It took years and years of therapy, living as a male, a year of taking hormone therapy and a letter from my therapist confirming that he advocates for this irreversible surgery upon a minor in sound mind. With my parents also signing off on it, I was given a date, and set to go. 

Now, I wait. 

  
  



	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off 2x16

Meeting Kurt was hands down one of the greatest things to ever happen to me. From the second I first saw him, it was like a part of me  _ knew _ that we were supposed to be friends. I helped him navigate his way through his troubles with Karofsky, and eventually helped him settle into Dalton when he made the decision to leave McKinley. 

We’ve had our fair share of duets since Christmastime, singing around his bedroom while we procrastinate our homework. Of course there was that long week where he was mad at me after I kissed Rachel at her party, but it’s not my fault that I was confused. I had put all of my focus over the past few years into my gender identity, that I never really took the time to actually think about my sexuality or explore it in any way. I’ve always known I like boys, but I’d never put any thought into girls before. I wanted to know if I felt any kind of attraction toward them, and kissing Rachel did feel good… the first time. 

I’m definitely gay, though, and Kurt seemed pleased when I told him that I was 100% confident in my sexuality. I didn’t realize why it got him so upset until a few nights later when I remembered our conversation in the Lima bean on Valentine’s day… Kurt  _ likes _ me. As more than a friend. No wonder he got so upset.

I felt so oblivious and stupid afterwards that I tried to avoid him, but I quickly discovred that there is no avoiding Kurt Hummel. I got over the embarrassment, and we went back to hanging out together. 

Last week, we had another argument about sex. I’ve always been fairly comfortable with the topic, but only because I got a lot of exposure to it growing up. Not in  _ that _ way, but there was a lot of discussion about it with my parents and doctors and therapists, so it was never something I feared. Kurt, however, just hadn’t let himself open up to it in the same way that I have. It’s not his fault, but he’s learned now, and it seems like he’s trying to open up to it more, which is good for him.

Except now there’s just one problem…

Kurt is  _ really _ hot, and he likes me. I do like him too, but I’m just worried what Kurt would do if he found out the truth about me. I don’t think Kurt is transphobic at all, he just… really likes boys, and sometimes I get scared that when it’s time for me to get intimate with a guy, he’ll see that I don’t have guy parts in my pants and he’ll… well… flip out.

Like I said, I really don’t think Kurt is that kind of guy, but… I still get nervous about it. It’s a fear that’s deeply rooted in my brain and it’ll take a lot to dig it out. I know I should just  _ tell _ him the truth now but… what if he tells someone else and the whole school knows? It’s not like I’m ashamed of being trans or anything, but sometimes teenagers (and adults for that matter) will completely ignore all of your past transitions and call you a girl  _ anyways _ . I know it well enough from my old school, and I’d really prefer not to have a repeat of that here at Dalton.

I’ll tell Kurt someday, but for now, I have to focus on Warbler’s practice. Wes bangs his gavel, signaling the beginning.

“Welcome everyone. Competition is only 11 days away, and we have to prepare. Before we begin to discuss potential songs, Warbler Blaine,” he gestures to me with the gavel, “you said you had something you wanted to propose?” I nod and stand up.

“Yes. I was thinking… We’ve worn the exact same uniforms since the Warblers were first established. I know that traditionally we stay with the blue ties with red piping, but the other day I saw these amazing ties that were red with blue piping that wou;d look stunning as a slight change to our competition uniform. I know they aren’t-”

Arguments erupt throughout the room. I knew I shouldn’t have suggested anything that breaks tradition, but come on. The red ties look much neater for a competition audience!

“Warblers! Warblers! I am merely suggesting that instead of wearing blue ties with red piping, we wear jackets with red ties and blue piping for the competition.” I try to speak with as much confidence as I can to get my point across.

“This is a kangaroo court!” Ouch. Alright.

I’m about to argue back, but the doors swing open, and Kurt’s standing there, donned in all black. He’s definitely going to be in trouble for not dressing in the uniform, but I have to admit, he looks stunning.

“Kurt, what’s wrong?” I ask. He shakes his head, letting a tear fall down his cheek. 

“It’s Pavarotti. Pavarotti is dead. I suspect a stroke.” Oh jeez. Although, that bird was a bit old. I know it’s been at Dalton for quite some time. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” 

“I know it’s really stupid to be upset about a bird but…” Kurt says, somberly pacing about the room, “H-he inspired me with his optimism…and his love of song. He was my friend. Now, I know that today we need to practice doo-wopping behind Blaine while he sings every solo in the medley of Pink songs,” He glares at me, and I feel a pang of guilt. He’s told me enough about how Rachel hogged every solo, so I know it makes him upset, “but I’d like to sing to Pavarotti today.”

He hands off a tape, and he sings. For some reason… it feels different. I couldn’t tell you why or how or what about hearing Kurt sing today is breaking down all my walls, but it is. God, I’ve heard him sing plenty of times before, but this.. It’s so raw and flooded with emotion. Kurt’s told me that this was his mom’s favorite song. He’s told me intimate details about his life, and here I am keeping one from him.

I trust Kurt. I  _ want _ to trust him with every single piece of me. I want him to know the truth. I want him to be the one that makes me comfortable learning to be intimate with the pats that I have. I want to go on dates with him and finally learn what his lips taste like. 

I stopped singing ages ago, and as applause fills the room, I realize… I want Kurt. 

He disappears after that, and it takes me some time to gather my thoughts. I need a plan to get to spend time with Kurt alone at Dalton. Sure, I could use our study time at his house, but I’d prefer for Burt or Finn to not be able to walk in on us during a tender moment. I could also do it at the Lima bean, but there are too many onlookers there. I wouldn’t feel comfortable. It has to be at Dalton. 

Suddenly, a thought pops into my head… it could work.

* * *

Wes bangs his gavel, signaling the beginning of another warbler meeting. 

“Good morning, everyone. We have only 9 days until competition. We have narrowed down our song choices. Let’s start deciding on solos.” There’s a murmur across the room, mostly of my name. “First, our eleven o’clock number…"

“I vote Blaine.” Nick says, winking at me, and I see Kurt roll his eyes beside him.

“You know,” Thad cuts in, “I think Blaine’s version of the song is actually better than the original.” I roll my eyes, and David jumps in.

“But, it’s not in his natural key so–”

“How dare you!”

“Enough!” I cut in, quieting everyone down. “I’m tired of this…”

Thad huffs. “I agree. I think we should just let you pick the song that you wanna sing.”

“No! I’m tired of the Warblers being all about me.” Everyone stares at me silently. I turn to the front desk. “David, please make sure everything that I’m about to say goes down in the official minutes.” I turn back to face everyone. “We are going to lose at Regionals.” 

Everyone in the room shouts at me, and I try my best to silence them. 

“I am- I am incredibly grateful for the belief you’ve all given me as a junior member to lead you all in these wonderful songs this year but, from what Kurt has told me about New Directions...” I give him a sincere glance. “I-I just know I can’t beat them on my own. Which is why I propose that we rearrange our eleven o’clock number and turn it into a duet- to showcase other talent in this group”

More shouts erupt from the room. Especially from the council table. It’s worth it for the way Kurt is looking at me though. He seems pleasantly surprised, and his flushed cheeks and gaped mouth are tugging at my heartstrings. I have to focus.

“Why don’t we just play it on kazoo?” David says sarcastically, and I shout above him.

“Point of order! Point of order!” It quiets around me once again. “Now, we all lost one of our own this week. Pavarotti’s voice was silenced by death and I don’t want to silence anyone else’s voices in this group. I think Pavarotti would roll over in his tiny…tiny little grave.”

“The placement of which has yet to be determined,” Kurt cuts in, and I bite back a smile.

Wes sighs, and glances to the other council members who shrug back at him. “All right, a vote.” Wes sighs. “Who’s in favor of Warbler Blaine’s proposal, for a duo lead at Regionals.”

For the most part, the entire room raises their hands, and I smile. Kurt leans forward in his seat, gesturing to the councilmen table. “Can I get my name on that audition list?”

“No!” I cut in, and Kurt stares up at me, distraught. “No auditions. I wanna sing the duet…with Kurt.” Everyone around the room start to give knowing looks to each other, but Kurt just sits there, flustered.

“Th-that’s ridiculous. I mean there’s so many great voices. I mean everyone deserves a shot at that honor.” I just shake my head and turn back to the room.

“All in favor of Kurt being my duet partner at Regionals?”

Ever single hand in the room shoots up. Kurt blushes deeply, but I just smile at him. Wes bangs his gavel, smirking at Kurt.

“Decided."

“Congratulations Kurt.” The room fills with applause and congratulations. I smile at Kurt, and take my seat across from him. The rest of the meeting goes by without a hitch, but every once and awhile, Kurt and I will catch each others glances and smile.

After everything is finished and practices times are set, I stay after to help clean up the room. Kurt disappeared again, but I remember him telling me in the morning that he was going to be in the west hall study room. 

I take deep breaths and make my way over there, my thoughts racing through my head. I’m going to tell Kurt the reason why I wanted to sing with him. I’m going to tell him everything.

I finally get to the west hall study room, and lucky for me, Kurt’s in there alone, bedazzling a tiny box.

“What’s that?” I ask, and Kurt startles slightly.

“I’m decorating Pavarotti’s casket.” I grin. Of course he is.

“Well, finish up. I have the perfect song for our number and we should practice.” Kuer sets down his glue and grins up at me.

“Do tell.”

“Candles… by Hey Monday.” His eyebrows shoot up in shock.

“I’m impressed… You’re usually so top 40s.” I chuckle and move in closer.

“Well… I just wanted something a little more emotional.” He sighs and looks down.

I can practically see the gears in his head turning. Finally he asks, “Why did you pick me to sing that song with?” I freeze, and let my mind panic for a moment before I open my mouth.

I had a whole thing planned. I was going to tell him that he’s changed me for the better, that he makes me want to explore so many different aspects of life, that he makes me happy, that I want to grow with him, and share all my honest truth with him.

What I end up saying wasn’t quite the same, but it got the message across nonetheless, and before I know it, his lips are on mine. We pull away after a few seconds, and I’m so happy and nervous at the same time, that all I can do is blush and turn away. Kurt draws me in for another kiss. We stay like that for a solid 4 minutes, just holding each others faces and kissing each other breathless. We stop only when we hear the doorknob being turned, and we quickly pull away and act as if nothing happened, letting our blushed faces and soft giggles give us away. 

We go back into the commons room then to  _ actually  _ practice our duet. It gets close to 7, and Kurt has to head home for dinner. I walk him out to his car. He grabs my hand and tugs me close again, then kisses me gently. This time, there’s no movement or tongues timidly getting involved. It’s just lips on lips as we breathe in each others air, putting as much pressure onto the other as we can.

He pulls away and smiles, his cheeks flushed red. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Blaine. We’ve got 9 days until the competition so… we’re going to need  _ lots _ of practice.” He gives me a flirtatious and teasing smile, kisses me once more, then pulls away. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I watch his car exit the parking lot, then all I can do is smile dumbly at the sky. I head to own car, and the whole ride home is full of love songs and giggles and touching my lips in disbelief that this is actually happening.

But it is. This is only the beginning.

  
  
  



End file.
